


The Poet

by gneebee



Category: Rick Grimes - Fandom, Rick Grimes/Beth Greene - Fandom, Rick x Beth, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), beth greene - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gneebee/pseuds/gneebee
Summary: Why would she choose Statesboro tucked far down in the southeastern corner of the state? There was a very simple answer to that, The Poet lived there. Rick Grimes and Beth Greene Romance AU no ZA





	The Poet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to my Brick lovers! This is all about the love and romance as I take Rick on quite a departure from his TWD story. I appreciate you taking the time to read. This story was originally published on FF.

She was enrolled in the Master's English Program at Southern Georgia University in Statesboro, an excellent school, a Carnegie Doctoral-Research University. But why would she choose Statesboro tucked far down in the southeastern corner of the state?

There was a very simple answer to that, The Poet lived there.

"The Poet" was Richard Grimes, the most renowned poet in the English speaking world, a man who was himself from London, England but currently residing in this small berg. Of course this particular small berg was only 55 miles from the thriving arts community and popular vacation spot of Savannah.

She'd heard he moved here because he wanted to live somewhere no one knew or cared who he was. Poets weren't exactly media darlings anyway, however living in a large metropolitan area like London, or New York, or even Georgetown or San Francisco, he'd be followed. The Paparazzi were relentless and always hungry for an exclusive, always hoping to get the "dirt" on someone. Just about anyone with any notoriety was stalked. And the fact that he was quite good looking, a little mysterious and went out of his way to avoid the spotlight served to make him a very intriguing subject.

He knew the paparazzi and their methods because he'd tried living in three fine cities, London, New York and Georgetown. But now he'd grown to enjoy the more pastoral life of this small town. The University had an excellent library and beautiful grounds, and he could drop in on the Irish studies program whenever he chose. Irish writers and poets, and the history of the country itself all fascinated him.

She'd first fallen in love with his poetry while still in high school. She'd always been a poetry lover and even then she considered herself well-read and knowledgeable in the art. Richard Grimes' poetry had immediately put her in mind of the great twentieth century poet, W.B. Yeats, particularly Yeats' romantic poems. She loved the way Richard Grimes, like Yeats, used symbols from ordinary life and familiar traditions to tell his story.

And although this poet, unlike Yeats, was not an Englishman born in Ireland, but an Englishman born to London society, she did know that Richard Grimes had a fascination with the Irish culture and arts and frequently sat in on the Irish Studies program at the University.

They'd seen each other in a class one day and he'd spoken to her afterward, inquiring about her studies. It had been all she could do to maintain her composure, yet he'd been so casual and unassuming. He had absolutely no air of celebrity about him. He was quiet, he seemed interested in her answers to his questions, and there was no hint of intellectual superiority and certainly no condescending attitude.

And you see they had already met, in fact they saw one another on a weekly basis. She'd gone to work immediately upon arriving in Statesboro at the cleaners / tailor shop in town. As it turned out the very casual, and yet always very natty Mr. Grimes had something in common with Texas cowboys, he liked his jeans never washed but rather dry-cleaned and pressed, with a nice crease down the front, please. And those casual plaid shirts were to be lightly starched. Of course everything was also very well tailored to fit his lean muscular body.

Somehow he managed to come off as casual and comfortable looking while still being the well-tailored English gentleman. So Mister Richard Grimes, the world's most renowned living poet, came to the cleaners every Monday afternoon to drop clothing off and pick up freshly cleaned and starched clothing. Monday's had become her favorite day of the week.

Since they had "bumped" into each other at the University, now when he came in he was more talkative and friendly with her, inquiring about her studies and recommending different works she may be interested to read. She so hated to see him leave but she adored the way he'd give her that great big smile of his and say, "Unless I see you at University I'll be seeing you next Monday. Do take good care, Beth." It got her every time. She realized there was not one thing romantic about it, but it felt special to her.

She admitted it to herself now, back when she'd first made her decision to move to Statesboro it had been because of a young woman's ongoing crush on a talented and handsome poet. But since she'd had the opportunity to speak with him more, both at the University and at the cleaners, she'd come to genuinely like him for the man he was.

He was surprisingly humble and occasionally a little self-deprecating, and there had been a few times he'd even remarked to her, in an offhand manner, "I'm struggling with a piece right now, it simply refuses to be written to my satisfaction."

She was never sure how to respond to these things and so she would simply say, "You're probably being too harsh on yourself; I would guess anyone else reading it would call it wonderful."

One day when they had such a conversation he'd laughed and he smiled that beautiful and inviting smile, "You're very kind Beth, I wish I had the confidence in myself that you seem to have in me. I should bring the piece in for you to read; perhaps your high opinion would change."

"I'd be honored if you were to ask my opinion, my goodness I would be more than honored just to have the opportunity to read your work in progress."

She never in a million years would have expected him to return later that very afternoon with a leather notebook from which he took a single page. "I leave it with you. I'll go have a cup and when I return you can give me your honest opinion. I shall trust your judgement so please, no sparing of my feelings."

Once she got over the shock she read the piece. It was a poem about a man who had fallen deeply in love with a beautiful woman. The woman had no idea of his feelings for her, his intention was to make her aware of these feelings by presenting her with a single flower. The flower he sought was to be equal to her great beauty. The hopeful lover embarked on a quest to find such a flower, but no matter where or for how long he searched he could find no flower as beautiful as she.

After two years of searching he finally went to the woman and admitted his feelings to her and told her of his quest. She replied that she did not need the imagery of his love, what she craved was the love itself, and the man realized he'd wasted two years of real love on something that was merely an illusion, not love but a symbol of love.

As she read the poem she felt her own emotions rise to the surface and she had tears in her eyes for the poor man as he searched for this elusive flower, only to discover the flower never was the way to her heart.

When the poet returned he had tea and small scone for her, "I apologize that I didn't know what you take in your tea, I added milk and honey. I do hope it's suited to your taste. And now I'm ready for the truth Beth."

Impulsively she took his hand and he glanced at her hand clasped around his, and then his eyes went to hers. As soon as she realized what she'd done she released her grip and cleared her throat, "Oh dear I apologize, I think I was just a little overcome by the emotion of the poem, it was so beautiful, I couldn't help the tears. It's truly wonderful and please don't change anything. I loved it."

"Please don't apologize I quite enjoyed your touch." He smiled that beautiful smile and for once she had the presence of mind to smile back. "Will you be attending the lecture tomorrow evening by Dr. Christine Kinealy, the one being held in the Multicultural Student Center?"

"I had planned on it yes."

"Brilliant, I shall see you there then Beth. And thank you for such a lovely review of my poem. I must bring you more of my work to critique; you're quite the tonic for my often struggling self-confidence." And he smiled that million dollar smile.

* * *

She'd originally planned to wear a well broken in yoga set Maggie had given her two years ago, but that wouldn't do now. She opted instead for skinny jeans and a coral colored sweater. She took a little extra time with her hair and makeup and hoped that maybe, just maybe he'd opt to sit with her.

Beth Greene was a woman he could see himself developing feelings for, even though he fought mightily against real life feelings. It was a far different thing to write about love than it was to actually take a chance on love. His only experience with love had resulted in feeling loss of self, followed by great heartache.

There was the trust issue; trust was something he'd never questioned until he'd had his trust broken. A woman he'd loved, a woman he'd built a life with, a women he thought loved him had broken a solemn trust, and he'd been certain after that experience he could never trust again.

So although Beth was one of the loveliest women he'd ever known, and so intelligent and kind, and he was oh so tempted, he was afraid to ever risk his heart again.

When he arrived at the lecture she was already there, standing not far from the door. She seemed to be waiting and then she rendered him powerless, she smiled at him. It was the most beautiful smile, all he could do was smile back. "So good to see you Beth, shall we sit together?"

"Yes let's do."

She had a small pad and was taking notes, it was something he'd noticed about her, the way she seemed to draw satisfaction from recording events in her book.

But as much as he'd enjoyed spending this brief amount of time with her, and as attracted to her as he was and as interested as he was, he left it there. He wanted to invite her to have a drink, but he denied himself that, still unwilling to take a risk.

* * *

Several weeks had passed and she finally resigned herself to the fact, she had to accept the truth as it was, he simply wasn't interested. He was kind, he chatted, he smiled, but it was all obviously just social niceties, he had no interest in her beyond casual friendship.

Of course she was deeply saddened, she'd been so hopeful for a while, and yes he was all those nice things, but it did seem as though he'd distanced himself since the lecture.

She remembered reading the gossip somewhere; he'd been in a relationship with a beautiful and very successful novelist that had gone terribly wrong. They'd been one of the most socially sought after couples in London society, literary darlings. And then the novelist had been exposed, caught kissing and being very "handsy" in a series of photos with her publisher.

Richard Grimes had seemed to vanish. The story was he'd taken up residence in a remote Irish village heartbroken and bitter. The biggest change had been in his writing style, his beautiful poetry had become dark and tragedy-filled.

He resurfaced a year or so later and slowly he began to reconnect with the world, and his poetry again became beautiful. There were once again stories of finding not just love and romance, but finding self and personal fulfillment.

* * *

He went to the cleaner's, just as he did every Monday, and the young police officer was ahead of him. He was picking up uniforms and the poet didn't miss the flirtatious way the young man spoke to Beth, nor did he miss the smile she gave the young officer, "Thank you Zach, see you next week."

"Let's hope its sooner Beth please think about that game on Saturday, I'd really like to take you." And Richard Grimes saw the young man let his hand skim over hers.

He felt angry with himself. He was being a fool by denying himself an opportunity to be happy. Maybe she wouldn't even agree to go with him; maybe she would and then regret her decision. But what if she said yes to the invitation, and what if they had a wonderful time, and what if it led to a lifetime of love? As Benjamin Franklin had so wisely said, "nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Hello Richard how are you today?"

"I'm quite well Beth and how have you been this past week?"

"So good Richard, I turned my paper in on the influence of the occult and spiritualism in nineteenth century poetry. The professor said it was the best piece he'd ever read on the subject. I've been walking on a cloud all week."

"That's very impressive Beth and I'm thrilled for you. I know how hard you worked, I know you spent hours on research and the praise is well deserved. Wonderfully done Beth."

"That means so much coming from you, thank you."

She went to the back to retrieve his order and he made up his mind. "Here you go Richard."

He paid for the cleaning and then he paused, smiling at her, "I wonder Beth if you might allow me to pick you up when you get off. We could have a glass of wine together and celebrate your excellent work."

Her heart seemed to move into her throat, this was a moment she'd spent a lot of time hoping for, she drew a nervous breath, "That would be wonderful I'll be off at five."

"Brilliant, I'll see you then."

She couldn't believe it, what she'd hoped for and dreamed of had finally happened; he'd asked her to spend time with him. She wished she would have dressed better, she wished she had her makeup bag, she wished her hair would cooperate. But then she reminded herself, "He asked you out just as you are." And she smiled and hoped it was a very busy rest of the day so the time would pass quickly.

He felt a tremendous sense of relief, he'd finally done what he should have done weeks ago, he'd listened to his heart instead of his negative thinking. Maybe it took seeing that young officer giving her his attention to spur the poet on.

He thought about where he should take her. He definitely wasn't interested in taking her to any of the bars near the campus. He wanted someplace quiet. He wanted to hear what Beth Greene had to say. He wanted to know everything about her.

He already had a deep sense she was pure of heart, and he knew she was not just intelligent she had a curious mind, a mind that wanted to always be learning new things and hearing new ideas. He appreciated her profound love of the written word and he could tell by the works she was most interested in reading, she was a romantic dreamer. She'd even let him read a short poem she'd written. Beth Greene was pretty woman with a beautiful mind and beautiful heart.

He wanted to learn from her the things that were really important in life, the things worth holding onto and the things to let go of. And he wanted to share with her his thoughts, his feelings, he wanted them to learn and grow together.

But he did have fear. Now that he'd taken this first step he worried he was too eager to move forward. It had taken him so long to follow his heart that now his heart wouldn't be patient.

He arrived early, very early. He sat nervously in his car listening to the radio and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, for 15 minutes. Still he approached the counter five minutes early. Then she'd smiled that way at him, the way that made him wish he would have walked in the moment he arrived.

"Are you ready Beth?" He tried to match her smile.

"Yes, I just need to turn off the lights and lock the door as we leave."

Even though it was still bright and sunny out the lounge was dark, intimately lit. He led her to a small table in a back corner and waited until she was comfortably seated before seating himself. Always the proper gentleman. "What can I order you to drink this evening? I believe they have a full bar."

"A glass of Riesling sounds good."

"That does sound quite good, an excellent choice I'll join you in that." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the waitress was at the table and he placed the order. She was used to dating men a little younger than him, never had she had a man order for her, referring to her as 'the lady'. So when he said, "The lady will have a glass of Riesling," it made her smile, he was oh so proper.

He smiled that big warm smile and those blue eyes seemed to twinkle as he asked, "What Beth? Did I do or say something odd or funny?"

"No I'm sorry you were wonderful, I've just never had a man order for me."

"I'm sorry was I wrong in that? I apologize if somehow I've offended you."

"Not at all, I liked it, I really did." And again they smiled at one another and he found himself reaching for her hand.

"I've wanted to ask you to come out with me for a very long time. I was overly cautious and I'm afraid I have regrets about that."

"Please don't have regrets we're here now I've hoped for a very long time you'd invite me. I'd like to think my patience will be rewarded."

He told her he wanted to know everything about her, "Please Beth I feel as though I've waited so long to hear you tell me your story."

And she called his move, "I'll be happy to tell you my story if you'll agree to tell me yours."

And they did tell their stories over those drinks and more as they transitioned into dinner.

When they got to her door he apologized for keeping her out so late, but she placed a finger to his lips, "No apologizing, I could have spoken up and told you I needed to get home but I didn't want this evening to end."

That's when he kissed her and the kiss seemed to convey so many feelings. It felt romantic of course but also just a bit tentative, somehow hopeful and filled with love and longing. How could a simple kiss hold so many feelings and so much promise?

He drew his lips away for just a moment, "I wanted to bring you a flower but I couldn't find one as beautiful as you."

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this love story. A big shout out to awkwardpause069 who sent me a photo of Rick and said, "He looks just like a poet, please write that." A big shout out to jsmith69 who sent me a photo of Andy Lincoln and said, "he looks like a poet," I was off and running! I thank you all for taking the time to read it and I hope you'll leave me a comment / review. I love ya large! ox gneebee


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